The Valley
by TheBrophessor
Summary: My first plunge into the world of Pokemon FanFiction. I hope to further explore the fallout after events within the same setting and interacting characters. There are several chapters so don't miss the continuation of the story!
1. A Cold Summer Day

It was still dark outside when I leapt from my bed. The excitement from the night before had made it difficult to sleep but somehow I managed. After dressing quickly in my usual shorts and favorite Mudkip hoodie, I raced downstairs where my father was preparing Pidgey eggs and toast. Our new family Growlithe puppy, Fawkes, was asleep on the rug in front of the fireplace but awoke when the patter of my feet hit the stairs. His excited bounding reflected my own excitement as we ran into the kitchen.

The summer morning air was already warm as my father and I ate our early breakfast. My father ate slowly in silence while I wolfed down my eggs and toast, scrounging for crumbs. Fawkes sat at my elbow, hoping for a stray crumb to fall his way. Our packs rested against the door frame with our poles beside them. Dad was letting me use Pop-Pop's old rod that he had used in fishing competitions all around the country.

Unable to keep my silence, I blurted, "What do you think we'll catch today? A Psyduck? Maybe a Gyarados? How cool would it be to see a -." My father cut me off. "Shhhh son, you will have to be quiet today or the water pokemon will be scared away." Overcompensating for my outburst, I merely nodded. Silence again prevailed.

Once the dishes were cleaned and dried, we collected our packs and poles and opened the door. The sun was barely coming over the mountains casting a magical orange, pink, and a purple-blue hue over the valley. My father and I headed down the path towards the deep lake in the middle of the woods, Lake Kett. Fawkes sprinted ahead of us, probably spying Pachirisu that were common in the surrounding forest. Spinarak's webs glistened with the morning dew as Ledian and Ledyba began to drift from blossom to blossom in search of sweet nectar. In the distance we could hear the cooing of a Noctowl, singing its Hoot-Hoot to sleep.

"Over here," my father said in hushed tones, "We need to collect some bait. The Butterfree spawning grounds are just up ahead, in the old apricorn grove." Following my father, we made our way stealthily towards the location. "Careful," my father said, "We don't want to wake them up." Not hearing this last bit being as excited as I was, I leapt forward and started picking up Caterpie and stuffing them in my bait bag at my waist. I was reaching for a Metapod when the air around me started to hum. "NO!" Cried my father, but it was too late. In my haste, I had awoken the bug colony.

My father sprinted over to where I was, just as a multi-colored haze blanketed the skies as the Butterfree keepers released their various powders. With his powerful hands, he held me close and started to run. Fear gripped me as we crashed headlong back into the trees. "At least I didn't get too far into the grove," I thought as I slipped from my father's grasp. I turned to him, a joke at the tip of my tongue, but it caught in my throat.

My father, a big man, was sparkling from head-to-toe with the different spores released by the Butterfree. He couldn't speak, probably due to the poison already seeping into his veins. I froze, thousands of thoughts racing through my mind. We didn't bring any antidotes or other medicines with us. It was just supposed to be a simple fishing trip!

I tried lifting his body but he was too heavy. Some sleep powder rubbed off on my hand. I brushed it off as quick as I could but I could already feel the effects of the powder take hold. My father's hand slipped from my grasp and my last thought before falling unconscious was of my father's prone form next to me.

A few hours later I awoke. My father never did.


	2. Coming Home

"This," Traveler thought "is going to be a good day." The morning summer air was starting to warm, the day not yet hot. The sun, still low in the sky, cast long shadows of the sparsely scattered trees upon the rocky ground. His pack Rhyhorn's steady rhythmic walking setting pace like a metronome as Traveler began to hum to himself. He could hear the Pidgey cooing in the distance as their mothers returned with regurgitated Caterpie and Weedles to fill their aching bellies. An easy bellowing laugh leapt from his body from a sudden rush of overwhelming cheerfulness.

His good mood had started last night as sunset began to fall. The brilliant hues of red, yellow, and a purply-pink never ceased to amazing him, no matter where in the world he stopped. Traveler's experienced eye could see the edge of the lake/forest road from his mountain camp, filling him with the excitement that never failed to manifest even after 30 odd years of exploring new places.

But Traveler was not going to a new place. He was going home. Home to the land that had been his family's for countless generations. Their house, a converted old fort from bad times, was constructed from the stone hewn from the mountain he was now standing on. The tall oak beams used to construct the arching ceilings were felled in the forest below. All in all the house was as awe inspiring to see as it was to live in. His mother and father, soon to reach their sixtieth years, would be overjoyed to see their son after so long a time.

They had written letters, of course, but with travelling delivery of mail was sometimes difficult. The last one he had received was almost a two years ago, in the fall. The apple orchard was being harvested with the help of a neighbor's Aipom, the Tauros herd was fattening for winter, and the family Farfetch'd had been strutting around thwacking the swarming bug Pokémon away from the piles of food being prepared for storage. His much-younger sister was almost 16 and had had many suitors, they wrote, but she did not seem to be interested in them. Traveler had smiled at this last bit. He knew how independent his sister was and how she wouldn't want to be tied down to anyone let alone a man.

Traveler sighed in anticipation. He would see his family soon enough. The forest rose in front of him and Rhyhorn as they neared their last mile. Knowing Rhyhorn could only move so fast and not wanting her to tire from overexertion, he held his pace in check even though he felt like sprinting ahead. To combat this nervous energy Traveler began to skip. To any onlookers this would have been quite comical, to see a grown man humming while skipping circles around a Rhyhorn loaded with several multi-colored leather travel packs.

After a few miles Traveler's exuberance wore down along with his energy. He contented himself with just humming and listening to the sounds of the forest. Sunlight trickled through the dense canopy above them casting sharp rays in the timeless forest. Traveler checked on Rhyhorn but saw she was as strong and methodical as she had been at the beginning of the past week of travel. Traveler stopped humming and began to listen to each of the sounds of the forest, practicing identifying each as he had done in old adventures to help pass the time.

Traveler had always loved the forest. The diversity of the wildlife made for an interesting game of sound identification. He could hear the wind through Oddish leaves and swinging Victreebel vines. Nearby, the thuds of battling Nidorino during mating season added to the rhapsody of sound. On rare occasion he thought he could make out the lullaby of a Venasaur to her infant Bulbasaur. He laughed his bellowing laugh watching several aipom playing among the treetops. Up ahead he could hear the buzzing of many wings of Beedrill and Butterfree harvesting sweet nectar from plants and sap from trees to feed their offspring near the Old Grove off the trail.

He then heard a sound he was not expecting; the frenzied barking of a Growlithe. He knew there were none native to these parts, though there was a breeder a few towns over. As progressed along the path the barking grew louder and Traveler was able to detect a hint of desperation. Rhyhorn seemed to becoming more and more agitated the nearer to the sound they got. "Hey girl," he said to Rhyhorn," I'm going to go ahead a little ways to see what's frightening that pup. I'll be right back."

Starting up a brisk jog it wasn't soon before he found the source of the barking. A small pup Growlithe was in the brush barking at two prone forms; one large, the other small. Immediately sensing the wrongness in the air, he crashed into the underbrush next to the two bodies. The first he came to was that of a small boy in a Mudkip Hoodie. The boy's breathing was slow and measured, looking like he decided to just take a nap in the middle of the morning in the woods. That was when Traveler's gaze shifted to the large form next to the boy. Glistening with different colored powders, it was easy for Traveler to deduce what had happened. Knowing there was not much time for Father, Traveler sprinted back to where Rhyhorn was waiting. Rummaging through his packs, he found his emergency medical supplies.

The Growlithe's barking continued to fill the air, helping Traveler rush back towards the location of the Boy and Father. Crouching next to the large form and putting on gloves and a mask, he began to undress the Father in order to get as much powder away from the body. Once the clothing was off, Traveler began brushing as much powder off of flesh as he could. The powder, however, had been on the skin too long and such had already bonded to skin. Thinking quickly, Traveler brought a pokeball from his belt. "Slowking, use Water Gun. Wash away the powder!" Slowking began dousing the Father with water as some of the powder began to flow away. "Keep at it!" Traveler shouted with anticipation.

"Try a Heal Pulse, Slowking."

A gentle green light began to emit from the gem on Slowking's head. Suddenly, the light burst out like a cloud breaking rain. The light washed over the Father and the Boy, enveloping them in the haze of green. The Boy began to stir, but the Father remained still. "Again, Slowking." Dread began filling Traveler as another pulse of the green light filled the underbrush once more. Still the man did not stir. "One last time," said Traveler, his voice cracking.

By this time, the Boy was waking up and saw this third green pulse. "Father!" the Boy cried at the still motionless form next to him, "Wake up! WAKE UP!" His small fists bouncing off the chest of his father, thinking it might somehow revive his resting Father. "Do something," he shouted at Traveler, voice filled with anguish.

But Traveler knew it was too late. The spores had done their work of and had seeped in too much of their poison for there to be any hope for a recovery. The Boy's sobs filled the air along with Growlithe's wails. Sorrow tinged with a feeling of powerlessness permeated the underbrush.

After some time, Traveler spoke. "Come Boy, let us take your father home." He began to collect branches to create a sledge. "Go to my Rhyhorn, she has rope in the blue pack. Fetch it for me," Traveler instructed the Boy. "I can't leave him," the Boy replied, tears still streaking down his face, "I can't leave him." Knowing better than to argue, Traveler reached for another ball from his belt. "Pelipper. Rope. Blue pack. Hurry." Pelipper sped off towards where Rhyhorn was waiting.

Pelipper returned with Rhyhorn and the rope just as Traveler finished collecting enough branches to support the Father's large mass. With a quick word of thanks, he took the rope and began lashing the branches together and laid the Father upon it. Traveler weighed his options for a moment. Rhyhorn was already loaded down with packs so he reached for yet another ball from his waist.

Heracross flew out in a burst of light. Immediately determining its task, Heracross helped to move the Father to the sledge. It picked up the knotted rope and slid it over its shoulders as one would a backpack. With a nod from Traveler, Heracross began to work through the brush to the path. "Come along Boy," gently nudged Traveler. The sobbing had become muted such that the Boy jerked with each wave of emotion as a puppet on strings being played by some unseen hand above. Growlithe huddled close, licking the falling tears off of the Boy's face.

The small group began to head off down the path in the direction of the village. "This is not a good day," Traveler thought powerlessly to himself. "Not a good day at all."


End file.
